March 30, 2018

Float On, Tiny Attention Span

I packed a lunch this morning.  I resisted the urge to grab that second fiber cookie because, lemon bar flavor doesn't trump the consequences of those actions.

I set the lunch on my dining room table, grabbed my keys, verified my badge was on my person, and picked up and put down three coats that I opted not to wear today.  In that brief moment, my goldfish memory blanked the existence of my lunch from existence.  (My photo is next to the term Tabula Rasa in the dictionary.)

Normally, this isn't such a bad thing.  I can spend a couple bucks in the Dome on a slice or a little Hate Chicken. But, my ADHD meds were in there, and I have my first sensory deprivation float scheduled for tonight.  They require 24 hours notice to cancel.  I am going to go stir crazy in that pod for exactly 59 minutes because it will take nothing for me to lose my zen.  One stray thought about something as banal as the knocking I hear in the cargo area of my car when I downshift would end up with me falling down a rabbit hole involving tread wear, using pennies as measuring devices, and terrible jokes involving Mrs. Lincoln's take on theater.  (You laugh, but that just happened in real time.  I had to come up with a joke somehow.)

I'm not going to get the chance to shut this mental China Syndrome down between now and then.  So, I'm taking applications for problems to solve, or navels to gaze later.

All that said,  I would like to take a moment to at least appreciate the forethought that went in to putting that second fiber cookie back.  It occurred to me in a fleeting moment of clarity that trusting a fart in a tank filled with water and 150 lbs of Epsom Salt would only end badly as any misplaced trust is sure to end up a floater under those conditions. . . 

Also, I'm going to forever refer to my brain as Ephemily's Elephant Foot.  (Those with a morbid sense of wonder know what I'm talking about.  The rest of you?  Google Chernobyl + elephant foot.)

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